Longevity by Grinding Skills

As the carriage slowly entered the Seventy-Two Districts, its cyan sandalwood shafts ground against the flagstone road, producing a deep, heavy sound.

The hoofbeats of the four Snowmane Dragon Steeds pulling the carriage were like thunder. The Bronze Bells hanging from their necks swayed with each step, creating a pleasant, echoing chime.

As the bells chimed, the originally raucous Martial Arts Arena suddenly grew much quieter.

A swordsman gnawing on a bone under a tea shed suddenly choked and frantically slapped his chest. A burly, bearded man, who had been loudly bragging about his "Thirteen Linked Sabers," abruptly fell silent, his wine bowl SMACKING down on the table. Even the two martial artists clashing on the stage simultaneously pulled back, retreating to gaze with uncertain alarm toward the mouth of the street.

"Why would someone from the Taoist Sect come to the Seventy-Two Districts?"

Someone muttered in a low voice, their fingers unconsciously stroking the tattered cloth wrapped around their sword hilt, clearly nervous.

The Seventy-Two Districts in Jade Capital City were mostly inhabited by common folk; the Six Great Sects of Great Zhou rarely, if ever, came to places like this.

An old Mortal Wanderer nearby, wearing a bamboo hat, narrowed his eyes. "Look at the Profound Patterns on the carriage shafts. That’s a True Disciple of the Taoist Sect’s Qingwei Mountain—and only a True Inheritor from the Daoist Sect Leader’s personal lineage is qualified to have those!"

Before he finished speaking, a collective gasp swept through the surrounding crowd.

Several rugged men, who had been standing around with their robes carelessly open, hastily fumbled to tie their sashes.

But the most startling part of the procession was the black-canopied carriage at the rear.

The moment a gust of wind lifted a corner of its curtain, the temperature of the entire street seemed to rise by several degrees.

A figure could be faintly seen sitting upright inside.

The crowd parted like a tide, clearing a path thirty feet wide.

The faces of a few more experienced old-timers had already paled. The Martial Arts Arena of the Seventy-Two Districts was a place for Wandering Cultivators to make a name for themselves. According to convention, a True Disciple of the Taoist Sect should go directly to the Imperial Examination Hall for the final martial examinations.

For them to appear with such fanfare now, could it be that...

"This is awful. The Taoist Sect is actually starting to compete with us little guys for scraps."

Someone complained bitterly.

The moment Xu Yunfan stepped out of the carriage, the entire street fell deathly silent.

A gust of wind lifted a corner of his indigo robes, revealing the Dragon Scale Armor beneath, which shimmered with a dark golden luster. The Shaking Mountain Sea-Suppressing Hammer at his waist emitted a low hum as it swayed. Though the Sky-Sundering Cloud-Piercing Bow slung over his left shoulder was wrapped in brocade, it couldn’t conceal the vibrant energy emanating from its tips.

Most terrifying of all was the Red Fire Dragon-Swallowing Mace slung across his back. In the sunlight, the coiling dragon pattern on its shaft seemed to squirm as if alive, and faint sparks of lightning flashed within the dragon’s eyes as they opened and closed.

"A T-Taoist Sect True Disciple?! Why does he have so many Divine Weapons?!"

A Martial Artist in the crowd cried out in alarm, the tea bowl in his hand falling to the ground with a CRASH.

The onlookers who had been crowding the front of the stage unconsciously took three steps back, forcing a path open.

The expressions of several Warriors bearing the insignia of the Four Seas Escort Agency changed dramatically. The Bullish Force they cultivated actually dispersed on its own upon sensing the waves of energy radiating from the Shaking Mountain Sea-Suppressing Hammer, causing their knees to buckle uncontrollably.

As Xu Yunfan got out of the carriage, he glanced at these Warriors.

’They must be from Mituo Temple.’

Everyone stared at Xu Yunfan’s backlit figure. In their daze, it was as if they were witnessing a god of war descending upon the mortal realm.

But Xu Yunfan didn’t think so.

’Cringe. So awkward!’

There was no other word for it.

’At this moment, he almost missed Su Zhenhe, that master poser. If that guy were the one being stared at by this many people, he’d probably be in heaven right now.’

’Died too young.’

Xu Yunfan sighed internally.

His expression was cold, his eyes like swirling, frosty stars. A faint, almost imperceptible layer of Qi Force enveloped him. With every step, fine cracks silently spiderwebbed across the flagstones beneath his feet.

’The style points were off the charts!’

’It was just a bit beneath him.’

Xu Yunfan thought with a sigh.

The surrounding Taoist Sect disciples unconsciously held their breath. Led by Chen Hong, they parted to form a straight path for him.

No one dared to meet his gaze. The oppressive aura emanating from this new, second-ranked True Disciple of the Daoist Sect Leader’s lineage was so intense it caused the qi and blood of several disciples with weaker Cultivation to stagnate, forcing beads of sweat to break out on their foreheads.

The moment Xu Yunfan stepped into the waiting area, the clamor died instantly.

Dozens of Martial Artists waiting to take the stage looked as if they’d been struck by lightning. One man’s teacup CRASHED to the floor, splashing brown tea on his trousers without him noticing. In a corner, a man with two swords on his back suddenly went ramrod straight, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists too hard.

Some, out of extreme tension, subconsciously reached for the weapons at their waists, only to snatch their hands back as if shocked when Xu Yunfan’s gaze swept over them. His eyes made them feel as if they’d been plunged into a cavern of ice.

"Taoist Sect... a True Inheritor?!"

Someone managed to choke out, their voice dry. Their Adam’s apple bobbed as they swallowed the rest of the question.

Everyone fell silent, daring not to make a move.

"Xu Yunfan of the Taoist Sect, take the stage!"

The arena Steward shouted, his voice cutting through the din. The entire Martial Arts Arena fell silent in an instant.

Xu Yunfan slowly ascended the stone stage, his steps as steady as a shifting mountain.

The nameless Swordsman’s gaze lingered on Xu Yunfan for an instant, his pupils contracting imperceptibly.

The nameless Swordsman’s fingertips unconsciously caressed his Sword Scabbard. A bone-chilling cold radiated from the sheath, mottled as deadwood, but even that chill couldn’t stop the cold sweat breaking out on his back.

’What kind of decent person shows up to a duel between Mortal Wanderers decked out in a full suit of Divine Weapons?’

"Begin!"

The arena Steward shouted.

The nameless Swordsman took a deep breath and suddenly raised his hand.

"I concede."

The two words were spoken crisply and cleanly. His voice, though hoarse, was clear, instantly silencing the clamorous Martial Arts Arena.

The crowd below erupted in an uproar!

"What’s going on? Sun Bing, the Withered Heart Sword, actually surrendered without a fight?!"

"What do you know! That Xu Yunfan is covered head to toe in Divine Weapons. Just by standing there, his aura is so oppressive you can hardly breathe..."

"But isn’t Sun Bing the badass who killed seven Pursuit Envoys in a row three years ago? How could he..."

Sun Bing turned a deaf ear to the surrounding chatter. He simply gave Xu Yunfan a long, deep look, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile beneath his cloak.

He recognized that aura.

Three years ago, in Yanbei Dao, he had witnessed a Ninth Realm Grandmaster make a move from a great distance. The Gang Qi now swirling around Xu Yunfan was identical to that Grandmaster’s!

Furthermore, Xu Yunfan stood as still as an abyss, his aura as solid and immense as a mountain. His indigo robes stirred without a wind, and his spine was as straight as a jade pillar holding up the heavens.

His static posture alone made the surrounding air feel as heavy as lead.

The Swordsman felt a tightness in his chest, as if an invisible giant hand were wrapped around his throat. Even his bones seemed to creak under the weight of this pressure.

He muttered, "This battle is meaningless... How can anyone be this powerful? Are you really under thirty?" then turned and leaped from the stage. His gray hemp cloak billowed in the wind, and in the blink of an eye, he had vanished into the crowd.

This imperial examination was restricted to those under thirty, a qualification Xu Yunfan met with ease.

Xu Yunfan merely raised an eyebrow, making no move to stop the Swordsman.

For seven consecutive bouts, not a single opponent dared to withstand even three of Xu Yunfan’s moves.

Every time that indigo-robed figure stepped onto the stage, his opponent would freeze as if struck by lightning. Some dropped their weapons with a CLANG. Others stumbled back, crashing into the railings. Some even shouted their surrender before the Steward could even announce the start of the match.